Unusual Things Can Be Very Good Things
by Silver-Raven22
Summary: 'Seamus babbling like this was probably the most unusual of all the unusual things he'd done today, and being Seamus, there had been a few.' Dean/Seamus Oneshot. Fluff.


**Summary- **Seamus babbling like this was probably the most unusual of all the unusual things he'd done today, and being Seamus, there had been a few.

**A/N-** Deamus fluff for you guys. Instead of working on homework like I should be, my brain decided to give me this. Can't argue with the brain though, so I go where it goes. Anyway I wanted to write Dean/Seamus because I feel they are an amazing and entirely underrated pairing. I mean, they're practically canon. /glares at disagree-ers.

**Warnings-** Slash, bad language. Don't say I didn't give you a heads up. Beware, cliché fluffiness.

In advance, I'm sorry for the mistakes that will almost definitely be present. This was written at 3am, and my editing skills suck.

Enjoy!

* * *

Shay was agitated. Dean noticed as he watched the boy out of the corner of his eye, from behind a large text book.

Seamus didn't usually get agitated. He was one of those people who took everything in their stride, and just got on with it. Nothing fazed him. He most definitely was not the type to waste time worrying about things, or get himself worked up. Not like Dean.

It was a mark of how boring Dean's History of Magic homework was, that even Seamus's fidgeting and blank gazing could distract him. But then again Seamus could be particularly distracting at times. Dean often found himself watching him doing odd things, like chewing on his quill, tying his shoelaces, or setting his eyebrows on fire.

It was also a mark of how well he knew his best friend, that he could discern his agitated fidgeting from his normal fidgeting. See, Seamus was a fidgeter. Dean sometimes wondered how nobody else ever seemed to be distracted by his state of constant movement. He would always tap a foot to the rhythm in his head, or be throwing something around. That was if he wasn't actually pacing around the room or jumping on the nearest person. The only time he was actually still was when he was asleep.

This fidgeting though, was different. This was biting his nails and messing up his never-quite-neat-anyway sandy hair. This was twisting his fingers around each other and squeezing his eyes shut. And when they were open, having a looking that seemed blank but actually meant he was thinking very hard, which was unusual. It was obvious Seamus wanted to talk to him, it was also obvious that he was nervous that Dean might react badly. A silly notion, as if Dean could be mad at him. So he sat on his bed with his homework and waited patiently while Seamus lay on his and fidgeted.

Dean shook his head. When Seamus wanted to talk, he would. He knew from experience that pushing him would do nothing to help. All he could do was hope it was soon, before Seamus spontaneously combusted.

Dean looked down at his textbook. He tried valiantly for a few more minutes to finish the page, but his mind kept wandering to the tie draped over the end of his bed. It was Seamus's, and he had no idea why it was on his bed, but there it was. And it looked good there. Not for any particular reason, it was just the shape it was making with the bed post, how it matched the colours of his bed perfectly, and the way it stretched itself out on his bed, like it belonged there. Much like Seamus often did.

Dean gave up on his homework as a lost cause, and setting it down, reached under his bed for his sketchbook and a muggle pencil. He began to outline the shape of the tie, and soon lost himself in the drawing. Not even noticing when Seamus got up and stood quietly at the side of his bed, watching.

When Dean finished putting the final touches on the sketch, Seamus said, "that's real good."

Dean jumped and looked up, "thanks," he smiled awkwardly.

Seamus looked at his feet, and tapped a hand against high thigh.

"I... Oh bugger."

"Shay, you okay?" Dean dropped his sketchbook beside him and swung his legs off the bed to sit facing Seamus.

Seamus took a long, deep breath, "I wanted to tell ye- I mean I want ye to kn- I, I need to... Oh fuck," His Irish accent somehow seemed even stronger when he babbled, and it made Dean smile.

"Seamus, look at me," Seamus slowly lifted his eyes. "You can tell me anything mate. You know that."

"I was thinkin and-"

"Never a good sign."

"Shut it. Anyway, I was thinkin, oh god, I was thinkin about that time when we had a fight 'cause Ginny wasn't good enough for ye, and that time when we fought because ye were tellin me I didn't have a chance with any girl, even though I knew ye were just teasing and..."

"So you were thinking about us fighting?"

"No I was- Shut up will ye," Seamus's hands scrunch themselves together for a moment, "Anyway I was thinkin about that time when I went out with Parvarti Patil, and I was bored outta me brain, but everyone kept tellin me I was lucky 'cause she's pretty. And how ye took Lisa Turpin on that date a month ago, I was really pissed, but I couldn't figure out why except that ye ditched me for her."

Dean's eyebrows pull together, "Shay, where are you going with this?"

"I said shut up! Let me get this out alright?"

Dean nodded mutely. Seamus babbling like this was probably the most unusual of all the unusual things he'd done today, and being Seamus, there had been a few. Seamus was a notorious sweet talker. He always found words.

Seamus abandoned standing in favour of sitting cross legged on the floor in front of Dean. He seemed to collect himself, before he began again, more calmly, "when ye left. I was really, really worried." Dean cringed, but Seamus continued. "I knew ye needed to go, and it was for ye're own protection, and your family's, but for some reason, I felt kinda- uhm- betrayed, I guess, that ye didn't say goodbye. I couldn't stand the thought of not seeing ye again."

"Seamus, I'm sorry."

"No Dean, I'm not trying to make you feel bad! I just need ye to know, 'cause I realised something, I mean I have this huge thing to, I mean- Fuckin, flyin shitty fucks on a saucer!" Seamus pushed his hands roughly into his hair.

"Wow that's inventive cursing, even for you," Dean said, keeping his tone light. He reached out took hold of Seamus's wrists, pulling his arms away and forcing him to look up, "Seriously mate, what's-"

Dean's words were stopped by lips meeting his own. The pressure was light and quick, gone in an instant.

Dean was still holding Seamus by the wrists, and stared at him with eyes wide with astonishment. Their gazes held for what seemed like forever, uncertainty and fear filling the blue eyes, blank shock in deep brown. Dean almost felt as though he had taken a hit of the full body bind jinx.

Finally, Seamus looked down at his feet, and pulled away from Dean, who was forced to let go of his hands. The move yanked Dean unceremoniously out of his paralyzed state. He let his arms drop and searched for words.

"Well, that was unexpected." Dean mentally smacked himself. What a stupid thing to say.

Seamus grunted. He got up and moved to sit further along Dean's bed, shoulders hunched, head in hands. His hair fell over his forehead, almost reaching his eyes.

"I'm sorry."

"What for?"

Instead of answering, Seamus shrugged his shoulders and hit himself on the forehead.

"Shay. That thing you wanted to tell me...?"

"Ye still want to know about that? God, I am so eternally fucked. I'm right mad aint I? But not just any sort of mad, I'm mad _for ye._ I think that having feelings for ye'r best friend, and male best friend at that, is probably the definition of 'fucked'.

"Seamus."

Seamus refused to look at him.

"Do you mean to say, that you worked out that you like me in a non-best-friend way?"

"Well obviously."

"Shut it git, I'm trying to ask something."

Seamus didn't look up, but he removed his hands from his face, which was something.

"Right. When did you decide this?"

"I didn't bloody _decide-_"

"Would you shut up and just answer the question?" Dean snapped, not caring that this was technically impossible.

Seamus scowled under his curtain of hair. "Well I don't know. I've just been thinkin a lot lately. I guess I just pieced together what everything means."

Dean swung his legs back up onto the bed and fumbled around beside him. He quickly flipped through his sketchbook, until he found the page he wanted. He crawled over the bed and shoved the book in front of Seamus.

Seamus took it and stared wordlessly for a few moments.

"It's me."

"yes."

"But I look different. Better lookin."

"No, you don't."

Seamus looked up sharply, but Dean just motioned to the book.

"Turn the page," he said quietly.

Seamus did as he was told.

"It's me again, well I think. That's me back isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is. Keep going."

Seamus flicked through the sketchbook, "the lake, me, books, Neville, my hands, our dorm, the common room, me asleep on a couch... are those me half-grown-back eyebrows?"

"Sure are."

Seamus stopped turning pages, and looked up at Dean for the first time in a while.

"Either ye're really creepy, or ye're tryin to tell me something."

Dean nodded, a strange smile forming unbidden on his face, "Almost half of my drawings are of you. Or you-related. My last one was of your tie."

"Why?"

"'Because you're distracting. Because when I want to draw, the first interesting thing that jumps to mind is you."

"Are ye- are ye tryin to say...?"

"Yeah," Dean smiled, "I think I am."

"How long, I mean, when did ye- ye know?"

Dean stopped and thought for a few long seconds. He tentatively reached out, and took one of Seamus's hands in his own, wrapping their fingers around each other's.

"I would say right now, but in all honesty, I think I've always known."

Seamus's face was blank for a second, before a huge grin broke out over his face, and Dean couldn't stop himself from reaching out and gently touching his face, brushing back his hair, softly trailing over his lips. He thought it was all terribly romantic, and possibly almost sappy, but then Seamus's hand came up and hesitantly touched his, and Dean didn't care anymore.

This time it was Dean who kissed Seamus. The pressure was firmer, more purposeful, and yet infinitely gentle. Dean's eyes fluttered shut and he tilted his head, silently asking for more. Seamus responded, moving his lips against Dean's until he opened them. Their kisses started to deepen and tongues met and Dean felt dizzy, but in the best way possible.

"Oh shit! Sorry!"

Dean and Seamus broke apart abruptly at the sound of the voice, to find Neville standing in the doorway.

"Hey Neville, didn't see ye there." Seamus said.

"Well, you were a bit busy weren't you?" Neville teased good-naturedly.

Seamus grinned and Dean dropped his head onto his shoulder in embarrassment.

"Right, well. You guys look like you could use some privacy. Besides, since you've finally figured out you're meant-to-be and all that, Ron owes me a galleon, and Harry five."

Dean lifted his head from Seamus's shoulder sharply, "Wait, you bet on us?" He asked incredulously.

"Yeah, Ron bet you wouldn't figure it out until within a week from graduation, and Harry bet on it being almost two years ago."

Dean couldn't quite decide whether to be annoyed or amused. Seamus was openly chuckling.

"I'll see you two lovebirds later; I'm going to collect my winnings. I'll keep Harry and Ron out of here for a couple of hours."

Dean felt heat rushing to his face, and thanked the gods who had given him dark skin. Meanwhile Seamus, apparently back to his usual, non-babbling, un-embarrassed self, called out a cheery, "thanks mate!" And added a wave for good measure.

The door clicked shut and Seamus grinned at Dean impishly, "let's take advantage of the privacy, shall we?"

Without another word, Dean took the sketchbook still sitting in Seamus's lap, and tossed it to the floor, where it landed with a dull thump. It lay there, forgotten, for a very long time.

* * *

Thanks for reading. If it's not too much trouble, reviews would be great.

Adios- Aislinn


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